I grind my teeth.
After dessert, as the wine flows and the table dissolves into relaxed teasing, Sienna sets her napkin down.
“Excuse me,” she says smoothly. “I need to take a call.”
No one questions it. She rises, nods politely, and leaves the dining room without looking at me.
I wait. Count to ten. Then twenty.
When no one’s paying attention, I push back my chair and follow.
I track her through the hallways past quiet rooms and soft lighting, until the cool night air brushes my skin.
She’s on the first-floor terrace, standing near the balustrade, phone in hand but dark. The city lights stretch beyond her, reflected faintly in the glass doors behind us.
I clear my throat and step beside her.
She doesn’t turn.
The glow from the city softens her profile, catches in her hair, sharpens the line of her cheekbone. It hits me low and hard—how beautiful she is, how effortless it looks on her. The ache in my chest surprises me.
“You’re handling dinner well,” I say quietly.
“I’m used to handling things,” she replies, eyes still forward.
“So it seems.”
Silence stretches between us. It isn’t comfortable. It crackles. I lean against the railing, close enough to feel her warmth, careful not to touch her.
“Vivian’s right,” I add. “You do deserve someone who sees you.”
She turns then. Her eyes are cold. Clear. Unforgiving.
“And you think that someone is you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you thought it.”
My jaw tightens. “You’re doing something,” I say. “You’re planning something. I can feel it. It’s in the way you breathe. In the way you look at me.”
She lifts her chin. “Then perhaps you should pay closer attention.”
I step closer. Too close. I feel it when her breath catches, even though she tries to hide it.
“I paid attention last night,” I say softly. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
She turns away immediately, like she’s cutting the moment clean in half.
“Don’t read into it,” she says. “It was a lapse in judgment.”
I laugh once, sharp and humorless. She doesn’t respond. She just walks away, heels clicking against stone, spine straight, back unyielding.
I watch her go, the tension coiling tighter in my chest.
Whatever she’s planning—whatever revenge she’s shaping, whatever secrets she thinks she’s hiding—
I’ll find them. Or she’ll destroy me trying.
